


Unfound his Treasure

by diabla616



Category: Marvel Ultimates
Genre: Amnesia, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 18:53:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13083183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diabla616/pseuds/diabla616
Summary: A year later Steve Rogers again wakes up in a SHIELD medical facility, with no memories of having done this once already.





	Unfound his Treasure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magicasen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicasen/gifts).



Steve opens his eyes to blinding pain.  
Frustrating, since Rebirth was supposed to have meant no more of this, but then he never honestly expected that a Super-secret government experiment would be the cure for all his ills.

The lights in the room are far too bright, and his head feels woolly, but Steve never had any difficulty recognising hospital wards, even if he can’t remember what’s put him here this time. The only other occupant of this particular hospital room is a handsome dark-haired man, stood at a careful distance from Steve’s bed, who looks up as Steve’s attention falls on him and moves away slightly from the wall he’s leaning on.

“Who are you? Where am I? How did I get here?” That earns him a wince from the stranger,  
“well,” the man says, “at least that saves me the trouble of asking if you remember what happened to you. Do you at least remember your name?”  
“Steve Rogers,” he replies immediately, “US army.”

That provokes a genuine laugh from the man, and Steve takes advantage of the momentary distraction to study him: He’s almost as tall as Steve himself, though leaner, and definitely not a military man. He’s dressed well; a deep burgundy suit which obviously cost more than Steve’s entire army wardrobe. (Growing up poor hasn’t meant that Steve can’t recognise luxury – it just means he never experienced it).

“I’m sure Fury will be relieved that you remember the important things. Since I’m not one of those, the name’s Stark; Tony Stark,” There’s an expectant pause, like Stark expects him to say something in response to that, and Steve rakes through his memory for a frame of reference for _Stark_.  
When he clearly draws a blank, Stark sighs, “you’ll get that reference when you remember me, I’m sure. And you’ll judge me for it then.”

“How did I end up in here?” he asks again. The man [- _Stark_ -] hesitates, and _no_ , Steve might be a little confused as to how he got here, but he knows exactly what it looks like when someone is about to lie to him, “and I’d appreciate the truth.”  
Stark sits down heavily in the chair next to Steve’s bed and rubs at his temples. This close up Stark looks less well put-together; dark sunglasses can’t fully mask the tiredness on his face and five o’clock shadow softens the edges of his elaborate beard.  
“This wasn’t the conversation I was planning on having today if I’m honest.”

Steve folds his arms and waits. It doesn’t take long to have the desired effect, Stark glances up at him over tinted sunglasses and asks, “what _is_ the last thing you remember, Captain?”

_The rain makes it hard to navigate properly, but it doesn’t matter now his target is in sight. The radio buzzes with Bucky’s concern and his team’s protests, but Steve ignores both – no time to lay out his plan right now. He braces for impact, but as the plane crashes through the fortress walls he stops, freezes as he realises what he’s looking at._

“The Germans – they had a bomb. Big enough to wipe out the whole of Manhattan –“  
“You stopped it, Captain. Fifty-eight years ago.”  
Steve sits up sharply at that, ignoring the flare of pain that prompts - Fifty-eight years! A lifetime he’d never thought he’d live to see, gone, and nothing to show for it but an unfamiliar face at his side in a bare hospital room.  
“Fifty-eight years” he repeats, “I’m missing a hell of a lot then.” Stark looks up from the gadget he’d been toying with,  
“you _missed_ a lot, Captain. But you’ve only been awake for a year. You went down in the Atlantic stopping that bomb- it’s a miracle you’re here at all.”

 

\----------------------------

 

The pain hasn’t subsided much the following day. Steve still doesn’t know what happened to him - Stark had taken pains to tell him all about the future ( _no, we don’t have flying cars. Yes, I’m working on it_ ) but had fairly conveniently managed to talk around any explanation of what Steve was doing in a SHIELD medical facility.

His only other visitors are SHIELD medical staff; efficient and personable though most of them are, none have the security clearance to tell Steve what he needs to know - and Steve suspects that even if they had, none would tell him for fear of retribution from Fury.

It isn’t long before the Director himself pays Steve a visit. Steve doesn’t hesitate in asking the one person who might have answers:  
“What happened to me?”  
“We were hoping you might be able to shed some light on that one Cap,” Fury replies, “it was just a routine mission. Widow and Hawkeye were delayed so you went ahead alone. We sent a SHIELD team in for support, then radio silence. Stark found you unconscious at the scene, two hours later.”  
“I ..can’t remember anything before waking up here, Sir.”  
“We know,” Fury’s expression is grim, “that’s why you’re not getting out sooner Cap.”  
“With all due respect Sir, I hardly think that’s relevant,” Steve begins, but Fury interrupts,  
“Captain, you took down the _Hulk_ , you _slept off_ fifty-seven years frozen in the Atlantic, forgive me if I’m a little twitchy about something which can leave you laid up as an amnesiac for a week.”  
“Director-“  
“until you can tell me what happened to my men, this discussion is over Captain.”

Over the next couple of days Steve develops an acute case of cabin fever, and manages to alienate all but the most battle-hardened of his nurses. (In his defence it’s not _entirely_ his fault- Steve is fairly certain he didn’t spend this much time in hospital even back when he was a ninety-pound weakling, and he's never been the most patient of men.)

He’s full-throttle in the middle of another such argument days later when the door to his room flies open and Tony Stark makes a grand entrance.  
“I’m dreadfully sorry this has taken so long,” he begins, while Steve stares at him, “but Fury is an awfully difficult man to wrangle, I’m sure I now owe him half my fortune. Never let it be said I don’t do enough for my teammates-”  
“Get to the point, Stark” Steve snaps, out of patience for the day. A less observant man might have missed the brief flash of hurt on Stark’s face - it’s brief enough that Steve almost does, before he’s composed and smiling that movie-star smile once more.  
“I’m breaking you out darling.”

Steve is dressed in the clothes Stark hands him and ready to leave before he thinks to ask,  
“Where are we going?”  
The smirk on Stark’s face suggests he’s noticed Steve’s haste, but he doesn’t mention it. “I’m taking you back to my mansion. One of them anyway.”  
He frowns at that, “don’t I have my own apartment?”  
“Sorry Captain, no can-do I’m afraid. Dear old Nick was explicitly clear about the terms of this little venture including a condition that you’re not left to fend for yourself. Besides,” he adds with a conspiratorial nudge to Steve’s shoulder, “that apartment of yours is still a health hazard.”

The good-natured teasing is jarringly familiar in a world where nothing else is, and Steve spends the trip of the trip wondering about Stark, the rest of his teammates, and what friendships he might have found in the future.

 

\-------------------------------

 

“Jarvis, we have visitors.” Stark calls as they enter.  
“Oh good,” comes the reply, “someone else for you to show off to, Master Stark?”

Through the dim doorway Steve can see a white-haired man give them a sharp look as he enters.  
“Don’t mind Jarvis, darling,” Stark calls back to him, “he just delights in taking me down a peg or four.”

Jarvis doesn’t deign to respond to that, but Stark doesn’t seem to be expecting a retort.  
“Jarvis, the good Captain will be staying with us indefinitely, while SHIELD gets their act together; be a dear and prepare one of the guest suites, won’t you?”

Steve starts to protest - he doesn’t need anything special - but Stark stops him with a hand on his shoulder, only to snatch it back as if he’s been burned when Steve startles at the touch. “Sorry Captain,” he mutters, “uh, make yourself at home. Jarvis will help.”

The mansion is something else. Steve spends the following few days exploring, idly wondering whether this is the first time he’s seen these rooms. True to Stark’s word, on his second day in the mansion Jarvis gives him a tour. He's pleased to find the man much more conversational without Stark around, and listens rapt to the stories Jarvis tells of his employer as a boy.

He learns more about Stark this way, Jarvis answers his questions honestly, and despite the frosty reception of the previous day his regard for Stark is clear to see.  
“One thing I don’t understand,” Steve ventures, “is why Stark felt the need to become Iron Man in the first place. Surely he could have paid someone to pilot the armour?”  
“You would have to ask Master Stark that, Captain,” Jarvis replies, “I’m sure it isn’t my story to tell.”

Steve tries several times to ask Stark about himself, though the man proves to be elusive.  He always has somewhere to be, some meeting to attend.

“you could stick around,” he mentions one morning, “I’d like to get to know you a bit more.”  
Stark stares at him, eyes wide,  
“You – you really wouldn’t Captain” he manages eventually,  
“try me,” Steve counters, “after all, I figure we were pretty good pals before I forgot all this. I mean, you were there when I woke up after all.”

That seems to snap Stark out of it,  
“We’re _teammates_ , not friends. I was there when you woke up because last time you were in that situation you _broke Fury’s nose!_ It made sense to have someone there who could take it if you did the same _._ ”

Steve considers this, “well, maybe we should start afresh? You’re all I remember of the future now.”  
Stark scoffs, shakes his head and walks away.  
After that, however, Stark joins Steve and Jarvis occasionally for meals (and several glasses of wine. Steve doesn’t comment, but he keeps a mental tally of each glass all the same.) He fills the silence with stories about the Ultimates, about Steve and the future he’s missed.  He doesn’t talk about himself.

 

\-------------------------------

 

The days in the mansion are his own. He’s still no recollection of what happened, so he’s effectively benched by Fury and the rest of the team. Steve takes the first few days with good humour, but as they drag on he feels the frustration building, crawling under his skin. He’s destroyed three punching bags in the gym before he gives up and decides to venture out.

 

There’s a petite woman waiting on the doorstep. She’s fidgeting nervously with the corner of her bright yellow handbag, but looks up as he opens the door, then smiles brightly at him. Steve offers a polite smile in return, a little ashamed that he doesn’t remember her. 

“Steve! Tony said - but  I thought, maybe-” her face falls as she trails off, “you really don’t remember me do you?”

Steve shakes his head, “I’m sorry ma’am. Do you want to come in? Stark isn’t around, but I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“Actually it was you I wanted-”

“Janet! You look divine. How is Hank these days?.” Steve isn’t expecting Stark at all, so he startles when Stark’s hand falls onto his shoulder, but this time he doesn’t move it away. 

Janet’s eyes flick to Steve before she answers.  
“As much as I’d love to catch up, the Captain and I are very busy,” As Stark says this he’s maneuvering Steve back into the mansion, one hand on Steve’s back that he feels like a brand through the thin t-shirt he’s wearing. The door slips shut behind them.  


“Sorry to interrupt the reunion Captain, but this isn’t the time or the place for _that_ conversation.”  


“Who was she?”  
“Janet Pym,” Stark replies, “also known as the Wasp. She’s one of the Ultimates, and an old flame of yours.”  
“What happened?”  
Stark sinks into an armchair and gestures at Steve to follow suit, there’s a tension in his shoulders Steve hasn’t seen before, but he’s still wearing the showbiz smile Steve’s come to associate with him.  
“If you don’t remember then it might be best to leave it that way. For now at least. But I know you have questions, and I haven’t exactly been the most forthcoming with answers, so shoot.”

Steve does have questions, many of them, but the mention of Janet, and what she is ( _was?_ ) to him has brought one to the front. The memories of Gail are a fresh wound in his mind still, and he can’t imagine ever moving on, but- well he must have done, mustn't he?  
“Do I have a sweetheart?”  
The smile drops off Stark’s face.  
“I don’t know Steve,” he says, “I don’t think you’d have told me if you had.”  
  
  


\-------------------------------

 

Steve wakes to the shrill notes of Stark’s cellphone, and watches as Stark startles awake across the room. He glances at his phone, then moves away to the far door as he answers. Steve doesn’t bother pointing out that his enhanced hearing makes that a futile effort,   
  


"Stark speaking"

The voice on the other end of the line is too low for Steve to make out, but he listens to Stark’s side of the conversation,

"Reed, yes, yes he's here, what-"

-

"No of course not, I _ can _ follow orders"

-

"What? _Werewolves_? Jesus Christ how is this my life?!"

-

"What do you mean it gets worse? How?”

-   
There’s a longer pause this time, Stark is pacing the floor now, shooting nervous glances in Steve’s direction. When he next speaks it’s almost too soft for Steve to hear  
"Ok that's worse."

It doesn’t take long for what that means to sink in; Stark is watching him carefully from the other side of the room, hands held out in front of him as if he’s a wounded animal. Steve feels the frustration rippling beneath his skin, but it’s different this time, a separate entity to him.    
He rolls his shoulders to release the mounting tension, but can’t help the yelp of pain as his back arches, folding him in on himself.  
  


The pain is blinding, worse even than Rebirth. Steve watches in horror as his arms contort into claws, feels the fur emerging across his back. Then- 

_ Flashes of what he’s missed. Waking up the first time, cold and disorientated. Tony Stark welcoming him to the twenty-first century. Bucky and Gail, and Tony waiting for him with a drink already poured. Hank, and the mess with Jan, and Tony with a kind word and an arm around his shoulder. Hell, how had he missed that? _

  
Steve senses the  _ intruder, threat, _ before he sees Fury enter the room. Tony is still at the opposite end of the room, frozen in place with his hands held out in front of him.    
“Stand back Stark,”  


Steve feels the hairs on his back bristle, feels his lips curl automatically in a snarl, and Fury pulls out a gun. Steve flinches back at that, he can _hear_ the silver in the gun. This isn’t going to end well.  


There’s a flurry of movement which makes him startle again, and then Tony Stark is between him and the gun.    
“I’m sorry Nick, I can’t let you do that. He's too important to - to the Ultimates.”

“Don’t be a fool Tony,” Fury growls, “look at him. He’s more dangerous than Banner.”

“We can figure it out. SHIELD has the brightest minds of the century at their disposal. This doesn’t have to be another Hulk. Or,” he says, “you’ll have to shoot me too.”

 

When he comes to again he’s laid out on the sofa, a soft blanket draped over him. Tony is sitting on the floor next to him, head in his hands. There’s no trace of Fury.

Steve eases himself into a sitting position, gingerly, but Tony doesn’t react.

“I remember, Tony.”   


 

That does provoke a reaction; Tony turns to face him warily. His face is bruised, with the beginnings of a painful black eye, and blood crusted around a swollen lip.  
“That’s - good -”  
Tony’s already easing himself to his feet - it’s now or never; Steve knows that if he lets this slide now Tony will disappear for days again to avoid the topic.

Steve catches his arm as he turns,   
“Tony, wait,”

He does, frozen where he stands.

“When were you going to tell me?” he asks softly, 

That earns him a wry smile which makes Steve wince in sympathy as Tony’s swollen lip splits further.

“You know me better than that Cap. Now, if you don’t mind I’m going to go and drink until  _ I  _ can’t remember.”

  
Steve pulls at his hand, until Tony collapses onto the sofa. He’s still tense, like a hare in a trap, but he allows himself to be seated next to Steve.   
“How about you don’t,” Steve murmurs, “and we get started on figuring some of this out instead?”  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays Magicasen! I imagine this wasn't the story you imagined when you prompted Ults! Capwolf, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway!


End file.
